by Crystal Karlberg
Portrait of My Mother Cutting Melon
The flesh is such a delicate
shade of green, you have to squint
to see it. This particular cutting
frozen in time, the matte black
handle, the gnarled right hand. No
matter the fruit, my father’s mouth
never watered for anything. Look
at her face and you’ll know
what she was thinking: how easily
the blade will sink and still.
©2018 by Crystal Karlberg
Crystal Karlberg is Massachusetts poet inspired by nature and art.